


Cause and Effect

by patriciatepes



Series: Forbidden Rendezvous [6]
Category: Batman: The Animated Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Dubious Consent, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Joker is not a good guy, Mildly Dubious Consent, Panic Attacks, Pregnancy Scares, Rape/Non-con Elements, Self-Reflection, Sex, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:35:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23903221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patriciatepes/pseuds/patriciatepes
Summary: Another Joker encounter... but the effects were much longer lasting.  When would she learn?  What was it going to take?
Relationships: Joker (DCU)/Dawn Summers
Series: Forbidden Rendezvous [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1717177
Kudos: 5
Collections: Hurt/Comfort Bingo - Round 10





	Cause and Effect

**Author's Note:**

> So, the last time I wrote for this series--despite its posting date here--was back in 2012. I never really concluded it, but since it was a series of one-shots it could have also stayed the way it was. But, here comes the Hurt/Comfort April Amnesty challenge, and I get the prompt for "panic attack." This is where my brain went, and now I could potentially continue this series for much longer. Hope you enjoy!

Dawn lifted her shirt, wincing as she did. The pain was a constant throb in her side as she stared into the mirror at the already deeply black and purple bruise over her ribs. She leaned over the sink in her master bathroom, the cold countertop almost a relief from the present, persistent pain. She squinted into the mirror, her eyes locked on the bruise. Were those… cuts? She stared at them a little longer before deciding that, yes, there were in fact tiny, red, and barely bleeding gouges in her flesh. She groaned, gingerly turning and withdrawing the first aid kit from one of the white drawers.

She began the work of cleaning and disinfecting the wounds—three, she counted, making a triangle around the hand-sized bruise—as she also mentally berated herself. The sting of the rubbing alcohol caused her eyes to water, and she added that injury to the insult of asking herself just how fucking stupid she was.

Because that was the kicker. She wasn't stupid. Dawn Summers, sister to the leader of the slayers, Buffy, was a college educated young woman. She had her M.D. for the love of God! She was a psychiatrist… which is probably how her problem had started. Now, she was back to work even after taking a year-long sabbatical and somehow still in a secret, not-so-secret relationship with the one and only Joker.

Only, she didn't want to be. She didn't want anything to do with him anymore. She had tried to get away oh-so many times now. Hell, she had moved from Gotham, back in the "innocent" days of her internship at Arkham Asylum, all the way back to her home state of California. She had thought that that would work. Maybe she _was_ crazy. Because, every time that demented clown escaped, he hunted her down. Or, at least it felt that way. He never hunted her down when Harley escaped with him or got out before him. Dawn had come to look forward to Harley's escapes as much as she dreaded his.

She dug out the butterfly stitches in the in kit, tucking her cotton, gray shirt up under her arms as she began the task of gently pulling the wounds closed. That called for at least part of each stitch to go directly onto her bruise. She hissed and growled and cussed all through the process. It was a slow process, but she finally got herself all fixed up. She hated that there was very little she could do for her bruise save for taking it easy. She sighed, letting down her shirt. Slowly, she rested her hands on the countertop. Now, when she looked in the mirror, she looked herself right in the eye.

She had to kick her Joker habit. That's what she kept telling herself. What she was doing was deadly… and mostly unwanted. Mostly. The sex was… incredible. (If she was going to be honest with her mirror self, might as well be all the way honest, right?) But the rest of this so-called "relationship"? She had said it before, and had it told to her before… Joker was going to be the death of her. Each one of their little meetings left her more battered than the last. She glanced over her shoulder, toward her bedroom.

The bedsheets, she knew, would still be badly rumpled. He had taken her several times there, pining her down until she almost couldn't breathe. Dawn leaned back, looking at what she could see of the far wall of her room. She could see where one of the picture frames that they had knocked down when he had fucked her up against the wall had landed on the bedside table. She turned back to the mirror and did some math.

Six times. She had come six times during this encounter. That was more than she had ever come with any other man ever before. Sure, it had taken most of the night—Joker had arrived at just after sunset, roughly sometime after five in the evening, and it was now nearing midnight. Just thinking about it gave her stomach butterflies and made her nether region quiver. She shook her head. Something had to be seriously wrong with her. After all, she already knew that Joker was messed up, from both a professional and personal standpoint.

She turned back toward the medicine cabinet mirror, wincing as the pain in her side decided to make itself known once more. She sighed and opened the cabinet, in search of something to dull the persistent ache. She spotted a bottle of Tylenol, but as she reached for it, her hand knocked into a couple of other bottles, sending them crashing into the white bowl of the sink. She swore, setting the pain medication beside the sink, as she started to gather up the other fallen items. The first one she grabbed cause her to freeze. She blinked at the little foil and plastic packet. Muttering to herself, she tried to recount what day it was in her head as she stared down at the pills. Still holding the packet in her hand, the pain pills temporarily forgotten, she rushed out of the bathroom to her bedside table. She grabbed up her phone, hitting the screen to get it to display the date and time. Her heart seemed to stop.

She held up her birth control pack again, as if she could simply will it to be different. But it wouldn't be. She knew that. She had missed the last four days' worth of pills. Her breaths began to feel heavy, and she was huffing them out as if she could exhale the very knowledge she had just obtained. Four _days_. That perfectly coincided with Joker's last reappearance in her life. She always took her pills at night, at exactly eight, but four nights ago, at a little before eight, Joker had appeared in her bedroom. He hadn't given her a choice on what they would be doing that evening, nor had he given her much choice for the following three evenings. Then again, she hadn't really tried her hardest to stop him. She paused, staring down at the table. Had she even said no to him?

Yes. Maybe once. But no never really meant no to a creature such as the Joker. He knew just how to worm his way inside a person, figuratively and literally, and manipulate them to make the choice _he_ wanted them to make. So Dawn had uttered the word "no" at least once in the past four days, but had given in quickly.

She could practically hear Buffy's voice in her head, followed by Spike's. She could hear them warning her to get away from the madman. She even heard herself, her past self, proudly declaring that she wasn't, nor would she ever be, Harley Quinn. Dawn dropped the pack on the floor, and she could feel wetness on her cheeks. Her breath was still coming in huffs, so much so that now she was starting to feel a touch dizzy. She crouched down in front of the nightstand, one hand gripping it for balance—the thought coming solely from the most primitive part of her brain. She began to sob, which sounded more like small screams that were being quickly cut off one to the next. Her heart thundered in her chest, and she was certain she was going to have a heart attack. Mentally, she felt like she was standing in a doorway, where one side was complete denial while the other was the harsh possibility of reality. Physically, she was shaking and rocking a bit on her haunches, tears still rolling as she tried to use her free hand to quell her sobs.

Was she pregnant? Was it really possible she was pregnant with _the Joker's_ child?

She began to whisper fervently to herself the words "calm down" over and over, until her heartrate reached a steadier rhythm. She forced her mind to calm, which took a little more doing. She had gone from rocking on her feet to bouncing the tiniest of bounces—anything to expel this horrible, worrying energy. She saw the date in her mind's eye again, and she began to count back.

"Fuck," she all but shouted. "Fuckfuckfuck, fuck!"

She was late. Her "visit from Aunt Flo" as the stupid euphemism went, was supposed to have been about a week ago. She reached up and grasped her head, moaning.

This was bad. It was so, so bad. She forced herself to her feet, taking a deep breath—which made her ribs scream in pain, but the panic easily overrode that pain. She shook her head. She had to think rationally. What was step one? She tapped her foot and bit at a fingernail. Okay, step one… step one was a pregnancy test. That seemed like the right thing to do.

She grabbed a light jacket, zipping it up to cover up the fact that she wasn't wearing a bra, and her purse. She slipped on a pair of flipflops she had left by the front door and was in her car in seconds. Sure, she wasn't the height of fashion, but whatever. Her goal was the nearest convenience store—since the nearest pharmacy and department store were both farther away from her. The convenience store was still a good ten miles. She was there soon enough, parked, and, almost as if she were on autopilot, entered the store. She made her way straight to the more medicinal area of the florescent lit building, finding only one pregnancy test in stock.

Her lucky night.

She grabbed it up, slapped it down on the counter for the pimply teen to ring up, and all but tossed the money at him. She hollered at him to keep the change as she took the test and made a beeline back to her house. She entered her home and made for the kitchen first, drinking down the largest glass she could fill with water. After a moment of wondering if fish felt like she had drinking that glass, she set the it in the sink and went back to her master bath.

The test was easy enough. Pee on the stick. Wait the time. Boom, results. She did just that, leaving it on the bathroom counter as she very deliberately went to sit on the edge of her still messy bed. She dared a glance behind her, and she was sure she could see tiny spots of blood on the white sheets. Most of a life spent with a vampire slayer had almost given her a sixth sense for noting blood on objects. Gingerly, she felt of her wounded side through her shirt. When had Joker cut her?

It felt like an eternity, but the time for the test to set ended. With a deep breath, she stood and entered the bathroom. Looking deliberately straight ahead, she felt around the counter for the test, bringing it up to her face.

Negative.

She gasped, a different kind of sob breaking free. She leaned over the sink and shook her head. Never again. It was a vow this time. Never again would she fall prey to the Joker. She would figure a way out, somehow, even if it meant swallowing her pride and asking her sister for help. She smiled and tossed the test in the trash. She washed her hands and cut the lights in the bathroom as she exited.

She hadn't even fully made it into her bedroom when she felt a hand encircle her throat, pulling her out of the bathroom and slamming her up against the adjoining wall. She blinked, shock and fear causing adrenaline to flood her system. She stamped down all those fighting instincts as she looked up at the grinning visage that was a mere arm's length away from her own.

"Joker?" she choked out.

"I know, I know. Poor girl… you're probably all worn out from our earlier fun times."

Dawn knew it had to have only been an hour since he had left… maybe two. A lifetime had happened then. Joker pulled her into him, cradling her body against his.

"What can I say… I had some inspiration for some fun new things to try with you. Whaddya say?"

The fear from her possible pregnancy was still looming fresh on her mind. Her lips began to form a hard "no," when she felt his hand give a threatening squeeze against her bruised side. She stopped, and there was a dark glint in his eyes. He may have said the word "fun," but what he had really meant was "painful." And if she denied him this, she would pay, probably with her life. He leaned in, and she could feel his hot breath on her ear.

"I'll make it worth your while," he whispered.

An all too familiar shiver danced down her spine. She gave a single nod.

She would kick her Joker habit another night. Right now, though, she just wanted to live… and a few orgasms to help her mind escape wouldn't hurt either.


End file.
